


Tease

by wreckingthefinite



Series: Wherever You Want It To Be [2]
Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Kink, Dirty Talk, Kink Negotiation, Lingerie, M/M, Teasing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, but honestly it's super super mild and it's mostly just the boys fucking around, corsets, i guess technically its feminization since they're talking about corsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckingthefinite/pseuds/wreckingthefinite
Summary: Wylan's outgrows all of his clothes, and Jesper suggests a very practical solution.





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an anon tumblr prompt -- anon, if you're reading this, I know you didn't ask for corsets, but somehow this little fic happened. I hope you like it anyway! 
> 
> Thanks muchly to the fabulous sublime_jumbles/alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody for the magnificent beta. I so appreciate it!

Wylan is a goddamn tease, and Jesper is a little ashamed that it takes him this long to catch onto it. He prides himself on his ability to read people, but Wylan really snuck this one past him. 

It had started one of the first chilly mornings last fall, when Wylan had dragged a few sweaters out of his closet. He’d picked out a soft, fuzzy cardigan and slipped it on, carefully buttoning it across his tummy. 

“Does this look okay?” he’d asked, looking up at Jesper with eyes so wide and blue that Jesper had nearly drowned in them. 

“Of course,” Jesper had said automatically, even though the truth was that it looked far too tight, clinging all over Wylan’s increasingly soft midsection. The buttons across his lower belly were pulled so tight they were gaping, and bits of his white undershirt were peeking through the gaps. 

“Are you sure? You don’t think I’m too fat for it?” 

It had taken Jesper a moment to look up when Wylan spoke again, and when he finally dragged his eyes up, all he could see was Wylan’s plump bottom lip being worried between his straight white mercher’s teeth. 

It had gotten worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—over the winter. By January, Wylan had clearly gained more weight, enough so that his chin doubled whenever he wasn’t looking up, and he’d quit buttoning that damned cardigan at all. One morning Jesper had walked into the bedroom to find Wylan flat on his back, undershirt rucked up to his chest, struggling with the button of his fine wool trousers. 

A million comments had sprung to Jesper’s lips, each one cockier than the last. _Where did that tummy come from, baby? That’s what happens when you eat like you’re starving all winter long. Look at that proper merchling belly._ But in the back of his mind, he remembered Wylan’s hesitation, his shyness, about his chubby body. He remembered the way Wylan compared his pudgy belly to Jesper’s lean one and then sighed, mouth turning down a little at the corners. 

“You okay there?” 

Wylan’s cheeks had pinked a little. “I think these might have shrunk,” he’d said, which was a bald-faced lie if Jesper had ever heard one. “Can you—can you help me?”

Which was how Jesper had found himself struggling to fasten his increasingly plump boyfriend into a pair of pants he had no business wearing. 

“Suck it in, gorgeous,” Jesper had drawled, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much. 

“I _am_ ,” Wylan had said, flashing cow eyes at him again and blushing pretty as a girl. 

Jesper’s cock, treacherous at the best of times, had leapt obnoxiously against his fly, and he’d counted to ten in his head, unsuccessfully willing it down. “Little more, love,” he’d finally said, and then pushed at the flabby little globe of Wylan’s belly, as if he could flatten it out, while dragging the button toward the opposite flap with the other hand. 

He’d finally manhandled Wylan into the pants, his tummy pouring over the top of the waistband obscenely. For his troubles, he’d been treated to the sight of Wylan actually wearing the damn things, which was almost more than Jesper could handle. Wylan had sat down to lunch an hour later and popped the button, rendering Jesper’s effort moot—and his composure pretty much nil. 

Then there had been the incident last week, when they’d been sprawling together in the obscenely large claw-foot tub in Wylan’s en suite. “Look,” Wylan had said mournfully, twisting around from his place reclining against Jesper’s chest and actually _picking up_ the chub of his lower belly. Jesper had nearly choked at the sight of it, at the way Wylan’s pale fingers pressed into his even paler tummy. “Look at those marks.” Wylan’s eyes, again, were wide as saucers and completely earnest. “Where did those come from?”

_From shoving sweets into your face all winter and eating thirds of every meal—where do you think?_ “Just a few little lines,” Jesper had said aloud, running his hands over Wylan’s belly, tracing the stretchmarks running across the bloated lower curve of it. He was stuffed full of ice cream, bless his greedy merchling heart. “It’s cute.”

“It doesn’t make me look fat, does it?”

_No. Your fat makes you look fat, though._ “Puppy fat,” Jesper had said, a familiar white lie that had become something of a whopper. 

And then there was yesterday, when Wylan couldn’t fit into a single thing he’d pulled out of his closet and was pouting on the bed in a pair of overly tight briefs and nothing else. He’d looked truly fat for the first time, his tummy spilling out over his waistband, stretchmarks clearly visible in the brittle morning light. Jesper’s breath had caught in his throat as his brain had begun immediately cataloging all the ways that Wylan looked truly, honestly fat. Rolls stacked up on his ribs where he leaned to one side, and his thighs—fuck, his thighs were obscene, is what they were, decadently soft and thick, and Jesper had to fight the urge to reach over and press them apart just for the joy of digging his fingers into them. 

“I should go on a diet,” Wylan had said, cupping his belly and eyeing Jesper from under his lashes. “Do you think maybe I gained a little weight this winter?”

_A little_? _A little_ weight was a grievous understatement, like Kerch was _a little_ mercenary or the Barrel was _a little_ rough. Jesper blinked, suddenly freezing mid-thought and then taking a hard look at Wylan’s wide, sparkly gaze and the shameless flab of his exposed tummy. 

Wylan was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one, and neither was blind. He knew good and well he’d gotten chubby as all hell this winter. 

Which meant…well, which meant that all of this wide-eyed concern over it had been designed to drive Jesper crazy. 

And it had.

“Oh, maybe just a little,” he’d agreed lightly, before pushing Wylan back onto the bed and kissing him senseless, already plotting his revenge. 

~*~

“I got you something, love.” 

Wylan perks right up. His privileged upbringing doesn’t often show, but his excitement about presents is one sure tell of his spoiled childhood. “What?”

“A surprise,” Jesper says mysteriously. He lies down next to Wylan on their bed, dropping a hand on his round belly and squeezing a little. 

“I know how upset you’ve been about how tight your clothes have been lately.” Jesper gives Wylan his most guileless gaze. “And I hate to see you unhappy, darling.” He’s laying it on a little thick, but fuck it. 

“Um. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jesper goes in for the kill. “So I got you something to help.”

Wylan nods warily, and Jesper reaches into the package and plucks out a delicate whale-boned corset, blush pink and edged with lace. 

“Ghezen, Jesper. Is that—“

“A corset.” Jesper smiles, watching Wylan carefully. His cheeks are pink, and his big blue eyes—so wide and innocent lately whenever he’s teasing Jesper—are darting back and forth, almost wild. He’d been playing at shame before, but this is _real_ , and it sends a hot spike of arousal jolting up Jesper’s spine. 

“I—Jes, I don’t—I don’t know—“

“You’ll look so good,” Jesper interrupts, briskly tugging Wylan into a sitting position. His tummy rounds forward accordingly, and Jesper doesn’t hesitate, reaching out and squishing a generous handful of it through Wylan’s thin cotton shirt. “And you won’t have to worry about your tummy. I know how _concerned_ you’ve been lately.” Jesper give Wylan his best, most innocent expression, biting the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. 

Wylan’s eyes flick nervously between the corset and Jesper, and Jesper almost wants to call it off, tell him it’s all a tease. Almost. And he would, if it weren’t for the way that Wylan’s pupils are still blown wide, his eyes almost glassy with what Jesper knows is desire. 

“Um. Okay,” Wylan mumbles, biting his lip in earnest.

“Go ahead, baby. Strip down and I’ll help you.”

Wylan’s blush extends beyond his cheeks, the fair skin of his neck breaking out in blotchy patches of red. 

He looks so gorgeous Jesper could scream with it. 

“I—okay.” Wylan tugs his shirt off first, and Jesper has to stifle a sharp inhale at the sight of his bare tummy, shamelessly chubby and full. It’s round and soft, with a thick roll of pudge lodged under his pecs and several bright red stretchmarks crisscrossing the flabby inches under his belly button. His pants are already unbuttoned, probably because he can’t get them fastened at all. Ghezen, he looks so good. 

“Those, too,” Jesper says, tugging gently at Wylan’s overtaxed waistband. 

Wylan nods wordlessly, and Jesper’s heart aches a little when he sees the tremor in Wylan’s hands. 

“Good, sweetheart,” he says gently, unable to resist praising him. He’d expected Wylan to break before now, honestly. He crawls behind Wylan on the bed, reaching around his sides to fondle his chubby tummy. “Maybe you did gain a little weight,” he says speculatively, hefting Wylan’s tummy like he’s trying to make an appraisal. “You’re awfully soft.”

Wylan is practically vibrating with tension, a red-hot mixture of arousal and shame that Jesper knows is a heady, dangerous mix. It’s also irresistible, more thrilling than any spin of the Wheel. 

“You’ll feel so much better with something to hold all this in,” Jesper continues, giving Wylan’s tummy a firm pat that’s nearly a slap. “I know how much it’s been bothering you.” 

Wylan swallows, his throat making an audible click. 

“And I just want you to be comfortable,” Jesper sing-songs, pinching a handful of chubby tummy with an iron grip at odds with his incredibly solicitous tone. 

“I—oh!” Wylan yelps, suddenly twisting in Jesper’s arms. “But I’m not uncomfortable!” he blurts out. 

Jesper gives Wylan another patented Van Eck gaze of innocence. “But all winter long you were so worried about this extra fat you keep piling on.” He jostles said fat for emphasis. “And since you kept eating like a sailor on leave, I thought a corset would solve all your problems.”

Realization dawns slowly on Wylan’s handsome face, his pretty lips caught somewhere between a grin and a scowl. “You shit. You absolute _shit_ , Jesper.” 

Jesper spreads his hands wide, the universal symbol for innocence. “What? Your happiness is my heart’s one desire, Wylan Van Eck. You’ve spent all winter telling me how sad you are that you’re getting so goddamn fat. I just want to help.”

Wylan snorts. “You _like_ that I’m getting fat, and you don’t want to help a bit.”

“And _you_ don’t give a shit that none of your clothes fit. You just like driving me crazy telling me about it.”

Wylan has the decency to look a little guilty, at least, and he scrubs a hand through his tousled curls. “I wasn’t really trying to drive you crazy. I just”—he stops, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s hard to talk about it, you know?”

“So you acted like you didn’t like it to see what I’d say?”

“Sort of? I just…I don’t know!” Wylan throws his hands up, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d say, ‘here, put on a fucking corset.’ Ghezen, I thought you were serious.”

Jesper leans over, catching Wylan’s wrists in his hand and sliding on top of him gracefully. “Oh, it’s not exactly that I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you _need_ it. I still want to put you in it.”

Wylan’s breath catches, and Jesper can feel the flurry of his pulse where he’s gripping Wylan’s wrists. 

“You are awfully pretty,” Jesper says, each word carefully wrought to bring a maximum flush on Wylan’s chubby cheeks. “And think how pretty you’ll look shoved into that corset?” He leans forward, until his lips are right next to Wylan’s ear. “I’ll lace you up nice and tight, sweetheart, and you can wear it while I feed you waffles. Just think how good it will feel when I finally let you take it off.”

“Je-esper.” Wylan’s whine adds an extra syllable to Jesper’s name, and his eyes are wide and a little glassy. Needy. 

“Wy-ylan,” Jesper echoes right back, grinning. “You’ve been teasing me for months. It’s only fair. And you _have_ gotten pretty fat.” He slides his hand down Wylan’s chubby side, drifting down to his erection—which hasn’t abated in the slightest. “And I don’t think you really mind the idea,” he adds, squeezing lightly. 

Wylan sighs, and a touch of mercher high-handedness slips into his voice. “Fine, but not too tight. I won’t be able to eat if it’s too tight.”

Jesper huffs out a burst of laughter. “Of course, gorgeous. We can’t have that.”

“And I want waffles from the cart on the Prinsengracht,” Wylan adds.

“Anything you want.” Jesper means it to be facetious, but the words come out in grave earnest. He clears his throat. “Anything.”

“I know, Jesper.”

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [missjanedoeeyes](http://missjanedoeeyes.tumblr.com) on tumblr and you should totally come hang out with me.


End file.
